


Familiar

by tinycrown



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fire, Hugo has repressed anger issues lol, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mourning, Nightmares, its not super touched on but its here, kind of repressed, post-vat7k, this is me. developing a character. in the weirdest way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28420917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinycrown/pseuds/tinycrown
Summary: Passion burns brighter than any flame.Hatred.𝘙𝘢𝘨𝘦.But love, all familiar.
Relationships: Hugo/Varian (Disney: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	Familiar

Hugo’s tongue was made of crumbling ashes, his skin set alight with an eruption of burning pain that crawled down his shoulders and settled into a deep, piercing flame in his spine, making his chest constrict and tingle. The air made his eyes water, his nose clog with dust, his dry mouth tasting of dirt and copper as he coughed and coughed and coughed, rejecting the smoke that whipped around him in a tornado-like death trap. The embers that seared his arms every time they brushed him, like a new match thrown to the flame.

He didn’t know where he was, and why it felt so cold but the burning in his lungs was so  _ hot. _ But he was unable to panic, unable to do anything but endure as the smokey air turned to a bright, vigorous blaze. It built off of the wind, strengthening its gusts as the cone fanned out into the grey, cloud-covered sky. Hugo’s trembling hands tried to push him up, but his body was so weak and could only cling to the tough, freezing earth that glued his knees to the surface. 

But suddenly, just as he began to accept his fate and give in to the torrent of blazing anger around him, he fell into a cavernous abyss that split the earth right beneath his knees.

He could say the feeling of falling was like hucking your stomach and your heart into the same chamber so fast that they’d fuse for just a few moments before it dropped back down with a hearty thud to the ribcage, leaving him with a dizzy, faded nauseous feeling. It left him reeling as he panted, sucking in fresh, clean air like it was the last he ever would before drowning into a  _ sea _ of unfathomable hatred. The material under his shredded, burnt and crusted trousers felt hard and unforgiving with an itchy rug thrown on top of it. 

His palms slid across a smooth floor, and his heart plummeted. Hugo scratched the tip of his nail, feeling the familiar grooves of grainy marble. It had the same grey and black angular lotus pattern, a web of intricate tiles spanning the entirety of the eerily quiet hall. The benches were lined just like he remembered, a dark oak that made the ambiance of the room appear somber and melancholic. 

He pushed himself up, daring to stare out the stained-glass windows. They didn’t let much light in, not with the intricately patterned, thick-fabric curtains hanging at their sides cinched tightly together with a golden, thready rope. But there wasn’t much light to give, what with the darkened grey sky looming over the massive Cathedral just outside. Hugo wondered if it was raining outside. He loved it when it rained over the valley. It was such a wonderful view.

But this place, so familiar, yet so far. A place he refused to return to at the tender age of fifteen. A place that once held so many comforts. 

A place he used to call home. 

He could trace the steps back into the boy's dorms where he used to sleep with his eyes closed such a familiar path. Bunked with nearly thirty other boys who could do the same, who could play tag and not fall or bump or break anything while the halls were pitch black with only the moon to guide them. He could remember the Sisters fondly, always doting, caring for the young, reckless orphans that lashed out at them because they were hurting, breaking. Sobs he used to listen to each night, sobs he’d long forgotten to shed. He told himself when he was young, he wouldn’t be sad anymore. The other boys, like him, either completely abandoned at birth or as a child, left on the marble steps or the splintered, wooden side porches in the very back of the building. 

He was told that he was left in a bassinet at the bottom of the Cathedral’s steps as an infant, where the Grand Matron found him. Took him in under their wings with the many other children they had under their care already. 

His chest began to hurt. No note. No explanation. Just gone. 

Hugo’s legs began to move on his own as he explored his childhood home, the floor cold on his bare feet and a draft carding through his loose hair. He slipped into a small, narrow hallway, passing by the courtyard he used to roughhouse with the other boys in, the back alley he used to spy on the passing citizens when he was on his downtime and itching to go out into the city. Woo some girls that he probably wouldn’t remember, impress little kids with the sly tricks he’d spent so much time perfecting only for them to mean  _ nothing.  _

He stopped once he reached the shared dorm, the door a solid, thick dark oak with grooves carved carefully into each panel like tiny stairs. Everything in the Cathedral appeared to be so delicate, imitating a gentleness that even he, terse and closed-off brute Hugo, could manage. Even the floors, reflecting the soft candlelight as the sky grew darker, looked as if they would shatter if he dared to stomp his heel into the marble. He pressed his lips together, pushing the knobless door open and letting it fall shut quietly behind him as the sight of the long, seemingly unending hallway left his mind. 

Rows of bunk beds faced him, chests set at the end of each double-bunk. Scribbles of children’s drawings were practically stained into the walls, growing along the planks like throned vines with each step forward. His bunk was at the very end, topside, with mathematical formulas scratched as small as possible into the walls so he wouldn’t forget his notes, papers, an alchemist’s book he was gifted by his favorite Sister tucked safely under the pillow with his charcoal pencil hidden under the sheets. 

Sister Beata, a flickering flame in her own right, was the kindest woman he’d ever met. She treated the children in the Cathedral as if they were of her own blood. She was fiercely protective, watched out for them more closely than the other Sisters. They were kind as well, but not in the way Beata was. Beata was special, she always had been. Her spirit glowed brighter than any candle he’d ever seen. She was his guide, his teacher, a best friend in a way. 

Hugo loved her.

He let his eyes shut as the warmth of her soft hand slid across his cheek. It was gentle and motherly,  _ so familiar,  _ and he felt his eyes begin to water. 

_ “I’m so proud of you, Hugo.”  _ her voice sounded almost ethereal, and it probably was. He hadn’t seen her in so long, and how could he even go back and face her? Not after what he’d done, not after what a coward he’d been. 

_ This isn’t real, but I want it to be.  _

_ “You’ve come so far, dear. Look around you.”  _ Beata’s voice urged, her slender thumb wiping away the tears that cascaded down his cheeks. He couldn’t. Not yet.

“I miss you.” He managed to force out through his runny nose and congested sinuses, his voice breaking as his chest hiccuped. He took a deep breath, clenching his fists steadily at his sides as he willed his eyes to open. Slowly,  _ slowly… _

_ Fire.  _

The cathedral was sucked into the torrential blaze that he’d been trapped in before, planks of wood and chunks of stone ripped from their weak points and tossed around the building like pebbles as the column of whipping grey and red advanced on him like the destructive wave of the ocean. He searched the room wildly, nearly straining his neck as he fought his eyes to  _ clear,  _ stop  _ watering, find her!  _

He couldn’t see Beata, she was nowhere in sight. Gone, disappeared. Just like he did that night, abandoned her. Left them all, because he was  _ afraid.  _

Hugo’s back smacked into the oak as the inferno inched closer and closer to him, feeling the searing, skin-melting heat brush against his skin as he screamed. Though there was no pain, only fire. 

He felt a roar building higher and higher into his chest until he was pulled into the midst of the blaze. 

Hatred. 

_ Rage.  _

Hugo shot up from under the covers like a well-coiled spring, a damp, cold sweat clinging to his taut skin like a sponge. 

His muscles flexed and tensed as he fought to control his erratic breathing, his pounding heart. A soft comforter pooled around his waist and the chilled air from the open window like ice on his bare, sweaty chest. He shivered, scooting to the edge of the bed and staring at the floor. Rickety wood covered in mismatched rugs. He let his feet sink onto the one placed so carefully by the bedside, much softer than he was expecting. 

Hugo didn’t move, though he wanted to get up. Run outside, suck in the fresh air as if his life depended on it, punch the trees until his fists were bloody and knuckles flattened more than they already were. Scream at the starry sky, always so clear and beautiful in the land of the light.

But he couldn’t move. 

He lifted his head, staring at the far wall as chokingly  _ familiar _ breaths huffed softly just behind him. 

“Varian…” He spoke, not quite able to make himself turn to face his boyfriend. Varian had always been a light sleeper, something he adapted quite quickly to during their time on the road. 

The man shifted, groaning. He could feel the bed creak as the alchemist pushed himself up. There was silence for a few moments, and Hugo hung his head, letting his face fall into his hands. Varian had seen him post-nightmare more than he could count on one hand, and had comforted him many times. He let Hugo hold him tight as if he would disappear if he let go, desperately crying into his hair, and yet no noise seemed to escape him in those times. 

He felt slim, toned arms slip around his middle, Varian’s cheek pressing into his shoulder blade. Hugo dropped his hands from his face and sat up straighter, leaning back into his hold as he curled his arm over Varian’s hands clasped tightly around his ribs. The shorter man nuzzled his chin up to perch on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek. 

“I love you.” He mumbled tiredly, too out of it to comprehend as he was still waking up, but attempting to comfort him nonetheless. His careful fingers stroked up and down over his abdomen, firm enough to be reassuring. 

“I love you too.” Hugo winced at the way his voice cracked, clearing his throat as he sniffled. He felt his lip tremble, Beata’s warm hand lingering on his cheek, her soft gaze boring into his morphing into something bewildered, angered, and terrified. 

“It’s okay, love.” Varian soothed, pushing him back to bed and helping him prop himself up on the headboard as he cuddled up to his side, pushing their foreheads together. Hugo’s resolve nearly broke, a strangled sob leaving his throat as he threw himself forward, grabbing his boyfriend by the waist and crushing him into an airtight embrace. Varian didn’t complain letting his hand rest over the side of his neck as he held him close, murmuring to him in a soft, exhausted voice as Hugo’s silent tears dripped onto his cheeks. 

He buried his head into his shoulder, still clinging to his partner as he sunk into his tired, yet loving hold. The grip his trembling hands had around Varian’s middle was sure to bruise, but he couldn’t find it in him to let go, soaking up every bit of care he was willing to give him until his tears stopped flowing. 

But as he clung to Varian, Hugo could feel the fire in him grow. 

**Author's Note:**

> So here's my weird startlingly-vague backstory for Hugo. It's vague for a reason.
> 
> Discuss with me what you think in the comments!! I'm curious and need people to talk to.


End file.
